Drinking from a firehose

I can never remember when the rhubarb is supposed to flower. I think this year it's earlier than ever before, but without notes so I could easily be wrong. Last night I pulled out a fully formed flower head and transported it to the compost bin. Letting the heads go to seed makes an incredible mess of the driveway and I don't plan on making *that* mistake again.

Last night I emptied the compost bin that split open last year. It produced three wheelbarrow's worth of finished compost, two of which I distributed along the fence where the black raspberries grow. The third is still in the wheelbarrow. I haven't yet decided what to do with it. I'm considering digging a hole somewhere in the yard and mixing the dug-up soil with the compost to see how potted plants do in it. I may get the self-watering planters out of the garage and try it in them. Not that I've figured out what I want to grow this year. Other than garlic -- I rescued a sprouting head from the kitchen and it seems to be doing fine in the pot I tucked it into. This was supposed to be a temporary placement though; that particular pot has an enormous split along the side and bottom.

While emptying the one bin I discovered why I've been had no luck reigning in the growth of the grapevine along the fence. The devious thing had wormed its way into the compost bin and the bottom third of the compost was mostly roots. Difficult to remove roots. I hurt pretty bad now and we haven't even started on cleaning out the pond. We're supposed to do that over the weekend. Jebra tells me this is the only weekend we have "free" until July 4th. Eiyee.